


little brother o' mine

by milo_the_fish



Series: irl fics [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, IRL Fic, Wilbur Calls Tommy Brother, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milo_the_fish/pseuds/milo_the_fish
Summary: Wilbur's bandmates meet Wilbur's little brother during a songwriting session after lockdown releases.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: irl fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175402
Comments: 29
Kudos: 492
Collections: Completed stories I've read, SBI Fics to Make Sebbie Cry, Tommy & Wilbur Fics





	little brother o' mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lillian_nator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_nator/gifts).



Wilbur’s bandmates knew a few things about Wilbur: 1) that he is a musical and lyrical genius (no matter how much he denies it), 2) that he has a quick wit that is fast to make others laugh, and 3) that he is a private person, despite the many times he’s texted the group-chat asking for consent to share their music with his other friends. They didn’t really know his friends beyond the fact that they were all sort of internet famous, which they were fine with, even knowing that it was a scary thing to walk into. His roommates were even similarly endowed, which is a lot to consider that they own a house together. After lockdown finally released, they were able to work on some writing sessions for the next round of music while they worked on the current mixes for the album; which leads them to standing outside Wilbur’s bedroom door in his shared house, at the current moment.

They don’t even have to knock before Wilbur swings the door in and smiles at them, “Welcome, lads!” He pulls the door open even further and allowing the three of them to step into his room, “We’ll be over by my bed, if that’s alright?” Wilbur asks, motioning with his arm the area that he was talking about, and they agreed, and when taking a further step into the room there was something that seemed amiss with their perception of Wilbur: a kid no younger than maybe seventeen sits in Wilbur’s desk chair typing onto the laptop that is half-secured on the desk. He’s as gangly as Wilbur and has massive headphones covering his blond hair and ears, which is why he didn’t react to them coming into the room. He is engaged in his own laptop, his boney fingers flying across the keyboard and hitting the backspace aggressively. “Will, you recently kidnap a kid?” Joe asks, motioning at the kid, while placing the guitar case on the floor.

The tall man chuckles, then realizing that the boy was still sitting at his desk, working on whatever it is he was supposed to, “Nah, he’s just down here for the weekend.” They both try to ignore the prideful look on Wilbur’s face as his gaze sits on the kid who is quickly tip-tapping away across the room, but it isn’t that easy considering the fact Wilbur hides a lot of his emotions into humor (something they found out he did as easily as breathing when they first met; which to say was successful half of the time and left him sputtering the other half) so any outward indication of his feelings just makes them feel slightly off-kilter. It’s quite obvious how Wilbur seems to hold himself in the kid’s presence, a weird (That’s not the correct word, maybe _disconcerting_? It was just- Just something they weren’t used to) and new confidence sits on his shoulders, and his smile doesn’t feel as forced at some moments. He even seems comfortable with the silence playing over the room, something they are not used to, as he tries to fill any silence with laughter or music. Whoever this kid is; he makes Wilbur feel loved and safe, and who are they to argue with that?

“The kid got a name?” One of them asks, throwing Wilbur out of his dissociation, “Oh- Uh- Yeah, Tommy.” Wilbur is flustered, which is quite a funny look on him. “I should probably tell him that you’re here, just to make sure we don’t bother him,” and they nod, allowing Wilbur to walk over to the boy. He squats down in front of him, drawing the kid’s attention, “Tom, we’re gonna be doing a songwriting session, so just holler if we get too loud, yeah?”

It’s hard to ignore the softness present in Wilbur’s tone as he talks to this kid, the easy smile that sits on his lips, and the absolute _stars_ in his eyes. “Will do, Wilbs,” Tommy responds, his voice a lot deeper than they expected, but it makes sense in their eyes if he was related to Wilbur. From the deep and smooth voice to the scrawny length of his limbs, they seemed to be brother in a way, but it was also the atmosphere they shared, like they were in their own little world. Wilbur is about to get back up when he peeks at what Tommy was working on and his face lights up, “Toms, are you working on your character for the SMP?” They all share a glance, not knowing what Wilbur means by that exactly, but he doesn’t really tell him what he does outside of music, and it’s not really their business. He gets a laugh in response, “Yeah, yeah, big dubs, I gotta give you something to work with, don’t I?” Tommy gets a half hair ruffle and a laugh in response, “That you do, Tommy.” He gets a nod, and a little shove in response from the blond-haired boy, “Don’t you have something to be doing,” and he almost whispers the last part, “ _Wilby_?”

If they thought Wilbur couldn’t get softer, the mumbled nickname that they could barely hear from across the room sent him _over the goddamn moon_. His smile grows impossibly bigger and he attempts to ruffle the kid’s hair again, and succeeds by knocking the headphones off his head and onto his lap. “Will!” The kid screams in retaliation and tries to fight off his hands, and they burst into a laughing fit, Wilbur holding onto the desk to stabilize himself. “Oi! You’re a right fuckin’ prick, Wilbur! You’re lucky I don’t have my fuckin’ vlog knife or I’d start stabbin’ shit!” Tommy shouts, his fake anger offset by the giggles wracking his body. Wilbur just smiles down at him, laughter making him wheeze slightly, “Okay, gremlin child, I’ll get out of your hair. Whenever you’re done, you’re free to join us.” Tommy nods, “Will do, big dubs.” Wilbur ducks down quickly, leaving a small kiss on the kid's temple and ignore the looks they were giving him. The kid just smiles at him and pats his bicep, “Go do your work, bitchboy.” Wilbur chuckles, ruffling the kid’s hair again and stepping away from the desk.

He joins them on the floor, pulling out a notebook and sitting Simone on his lap. The band works for an hour or so before deciding to take a break, all of them checking their phones before starting a conversation, “So Will, why haven’t we seen Tommy before?” Wilbur snorts, looking at the boy still typing away on his computer, “Most of the year he’s in Nottingham, but he’s finally allowed to travel here for weekends since college and lockdown finally let up and summers’ coming soon.” It made sense, at least in the context that the kid was probably now old enough to travel alone to see his big brother. “What’s he studying?” The question comes up, and it possibly was going to start the interrogation of Wilbur about his brother, whom is such a new presence in their lives. “Film, I told him to take some music courses as well, but he never listens to me,” Wilbur explains, fidgeting with his hands. “He must have the Gold genes if he’s good at music, does he play anything?” He laughs at the question, “Yeah, he plays piano,” and he sounds so proud as he says it. It’s like his voice was covered a mixture of honey and ambrosia, and it feels wrong to see the happiness, to hear the love absolutely oozing from his voice.

“Ooh, what grade did he get to?” Wilbur’s glance returns to his bandmates and thinks for a moment, “Five Jazz, if I remember correctly?” One of them whistles, “Damn, he really does have the Gold genes.” Wilbur just seems to flush, laughing off some form of embarrassment he is getting from the secondhand praise. “I don’t know about that, he’s much better than I am sometimes,” it’s said in such a whisper that they all tease him for it, “Oi! I was just saying, he actually understands music theory and shit, all I do is put nice chords together.” His bandmates burst out into laughter, thinking that maybe Wilbur was being humble, but they can see it in his eyes again: _pride_. They continue to fuck around for another ten to twenty minutes and decide to actually be productive again after Wilbur throws his half-filled plastic water bottle at Joe.

They ignore as one of the songs they are working on is morphing into something of a brotherly piece, definitely from Wilbur’s influence. It didn’t seem like he was trying to either, the boy just seemed to bring it out of him in ways that he didn’t seem to see. Wilbur definitely blushes when they bring it up to him, after he reads the lyrics again, and they coo at him that it’s okay, they think it would fit in with the rest of the tracklist. He seems to take a huge sigh of relief at that, and hesitantly looks over at Tommy, to make sure he didn’t hear that whole entire mess. After a few more hours they finally take a break, sitting around and shooting the shit while dealing with the slow aching in their backs from being on the floor so long.

Tommy closes his laptop and stands from the desk chair, stretching and realizing they were still here. He hesitantly looks at Wilbur, who just gives him a small upturn of his lips and pats the spot next to him, which Tommy then walks over to the group, plopping down next to him. They watch as he leans into Wilbur’s side, resting his head on his shoulder and Wilbur slips his arm around his shoulder. The boy just huddles closer to Wilbur, gripping him like an oversized teddy bear and whining into his shoulder, and Wilbur just shushes him and places his chin atop the boy’s head. They 'aww’ at Wilbur and his brother, Wilbur just glares at them, before whispering to Tommy, and the boy murmurs back, ignoring the three of them. Tommy seems to drift off to sleep a few minutes later, Wilbur keeping him upright and gripping him just as tightly as the boy was gripping him. They hear his little snores that are getting lost in the crook of Wilbur’s neck, and watch as they breathe in sync.

“It must be nice, having a little brother,” one of them states and Wilbur almost chokes on his own spit, cheeks slowly becoming red again. “I wouldn’t know, I just have my Tommy,” Wilbur pauses, shifting the kid even closer than before and pressing a small kiss into his hair, “He’s my best friend so I don’t know if he counts just as a little brother.” Most people with close sibling relationships say stuff like that, that their sibling is their best friend, but Wilbur seems so dead serious about it, about the tender care he is taking over the boy, playing with his hair, and humming to him. “Can’t believe you’ve gone soft, Will,” Joe jokes, expecting another water bottle attack, but Wilbur just sighs in an exasperated fashion and giggles as the boy stirs for a moment.

“Maybe I have.”

**Author's Note:**

> lmaooo wrote this to ignore my own mental health
> 
> add it to the tally of the times wilbur and tommy have saved my life
> 
> sorry if it sucks, Lillian_nator :)


End file.
